Page 156 of First in Line

My response comes out much harsher than I meant it, and this time, two drops, clear like crystal, slide down her cheeks.

Fuck… I don’t have time for this. My flight is in less than two hours.

I return to her and squat down, leveling my face with hers. “Listen, I’m a race car driver. It’s my job. And I’ll keep racing for as long as they let me. Let’s say I skip two races. The baby is born, all is well. What happens when you get pregnant again? Do I stop racing for nine months?”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to decide what you want our future to be. Do we keep moving forward to Florence in Tuscany, or do we go back to Florence in Colorado?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Then what? Because if I’m not driving, the only job I can get is at my brother’s garage. Maybe we could find a trailer near your mom’s. She could help with the baby.”

Her eyes darken at the suggestion. “Now you’re just being cruel.”

“I’m being realistic, Evie. You don’t have your degree yet, and with a newborn on the way, it’ll take a while. And I didn’t get enough credits to graduate from high school. We’re on the best path we’ll ever be on. The only thing we can do for ourselves and the baby is to keep going forward.”

She says nothing, sliding the back of her hand under her runny nose. Taking it as her admission that I’m right, I push myself up and return to the closet.

I’m almost done with my suitcase when Evie stands up, struggling a little under the weight of her belly.

“Just one race,” she tries again. “Just this one. Then we induce in a month, and you can go to Jeddah.”

“Evie …”

“I’m not asking for the moon, Jax. Just for you to put me first, for once.”

An uncontrollable snort comes out of me. “For once?” I repeat. “For once? All of this is for you, Evangeline!” I say loudly, motioning at our bedroom and all the things she bought to fillit. “I’m working so damn hard all the time so I can give you the life you deserve,” I continue. “So you can buy all the shit you want. So we can have a nine-hundred-dollar vintage armchair that isn’t even really vintage.”

“You said you liked the armchair.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the point?!”

“The point is, my job is racing. You’ve known that since we started dating, and now you’re trying to wriggle out of exactly what you signed up for.”

“I didn’t sign up for becoming a single mom because you went and killed yourself driving a car!”

“Well, you grew up with one who showed you exactly what not to do, so I’m sure you’ll be fine if I di—”

The burning smack of her hand on my cheek leaves me stunned. Did she—did she just slap me?

“Fuck you, Jackson,” she spits out, eyes full of anger. Hearing her curse is even more jarring than the blow to my cheek. “How can you talk about it so casually?!” she continues.

“I was joking!”

“It’s not a joke! It’s a real possibility. You could die and leave us behind. I could lose you forever. Your daughter could grow up without a father. Why can’t you understand that’s what I’m worried about?!”

“I understand, but you’re being irrational.”

“Am I? You almost died last season!”

“Not even close. I had two broken ribs and a concussion. I was back on track three weeks later, racing two weeks after that. It was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing!”

Her voice cracks, and her anger turns into tears as she presses her hands over her face. She sobs, shoulders shaking with it.